


Eighty Shades of Agreste

by Darkreh



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: BDSM, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 03:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15721005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkreh/pseuds/Darkreh
Summary: Marinette is happily living her life as a young adult in Paris until a surprise encounter with a former classmate pulls her into a world she never imagined exploring.





	1. Emerald

**Author's Note:**

> I started this for my own entertainment but thought others might enjoy it too--more notes at the end!

At only 23 years old, Marinette was sure that she had never felt more anxious in her entire life. 

Paris continued to bustle with activity as she stared up at the looming building in front of her. She was currently fighting her will to sprint as far away from it as she possibly could. For years she had stared longingly at it as she passed by on the sidewalk on her various pursuits throughout the city, but it had never crossed her mind that one day she might find herself as a visitor, graced with the opportunity to so much as go inside. She tugged her soft knit scarf down from over her mouth and watched as her breath fanned out in a white mist while she stared at her reflection in the glass doors. The chill in the afternoon November air did nothing to ease her restlessness. 

Today could make or break what she had been working towards for her entire life. From birth through graduating from university, she had exhausted herself towards the goal of being one of the top fashion designers in Paris. In a stroke of luck, her best friend and acclaimed journalist, Alya Césaire, had been chosen to do a spread on Gabriel, the most beloved designer brand in most parts of the world and exclusively based in Paris, France. As a result, the reporter had been given the opportunity to meet with and interview the famous Agreste himself. After months of careful preparation, her friend had fallen violently ill just a night before her scheduled interview, leaving Marinette to take her place. Clutching her stomach on the couch with a glass of juice beside her, Alya had deemed the Spanish food that she had indulged in the previous night as the culprit while her friend tugged a soft down blanket over her shoulders and told her to rest. 

Standing in the chilled morning air, Marinette couldn’t help but wonder if it was also a twisted act of God that had poisoned her roommate, with the higher power being fully aware that the aspiring fashion designer would be her replacement. 

She recalled applying some lipstick in a mirror beside their door as Alya commented from the couch of their small apartment.   
“C’mon, Marinette, you’ll do great!” Her friend chirped. “You practically worshipped Gabriel’s spreads when we were younger. They must have given you plenty of experience with his brand.” She heard her friend aggressively blow her nose into a Kleenex. “All of your hours spent idolizing his blazers, dresses, and blouses are finally going to pay off!” 

Marinette rolled her bright blue eyes in the mirror as she pursed her lips, only partially satisfied with the rosy pink shade she had selected.   
“Yeah, but I never imagined I would actually get to meet him in person!”

“I believe in you, girl,” Alya coughed, interrupting the rest of her statement. “Just relax and let my questions do the talking if you get nervous.” 

The sharp corner of a briefcase held by a passer-by dug into her hip as Marinette was brought back to the present. She stepped forward to avoid the commuters beginning to flood the sidewalk and paused as her fingertips touched the cool brass handle of the door. 

Well, here goes nothing. 

Marinette’s stomach churned as she pushed through the doors and proceeded into the lobby. Once the doors closed behind her, she felt her mouth part in awe as her senses were both subdued and overwhelmed.

Tall glistening white marble ceilings strung with with crystal chandeliers arched above her, turning sharply as they met with the sleek marble floor below. A pristine stone fountain sat in the middle of the spacious room, while its water trailed gracefully from the top tier and pooled at the bottom of the structure. The thick walls muted the harsher noises of the city, leaving only the calming sound of trickling water to fill the space. Marinette inhaled calmly and noticed the lingering scent of cinnamon and fresh linen in the air. 

Her heels made satisfying clicks against the hard ground as she passed a few black modern couches and approached the front desk. A woman appearing to be the same age as Marinette was behind the low counter wearing a knit striped sweater and a black pencil skirt that reached her calves. A pair of wide-rimmed glasses were perched atop her tight bun, and a strand of her platinum-blonde hair was tucked carefully behind her ear. Her bright blue gaze cut straight through Marinette, as if she was now a test subject being placed under a microscope for careful examination.   
The woman sighed as she settled into a chair in front of a large Apple desktop computer.

“Appointment?” She spoke, with a hint of irritation. 

“Monsieur Agreste.” Marinette replied firmly, refusing to let her infamous nervous stutter creep in. She traced her fingers along the smooth edge of the folder before drawing it closer to her chest as she watched the receptionist’s fingers fly across the keyboard. Along with her knit scarf, she had chosen to wear a conservative white blouse, charcoal blazer, asymmetrical skirt, and her favorite black pumps, despite the cooler weather. Her jet black hair was styled in a sleek ponytail, and she had been careful to use a light hand with her mascara and lipstick. She felt poised, polished, and professional, and hoped that it would reflect onto the esteemed designer. 

“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng?” The woman questioned while narrowing her eyes.

“Yes.” 

“Monsieur Agreste is ready to see you in his office on the top floor.” The blonde handed her a thin plastic card before continuing. “You’ll need to swipe this to access his room. He is on a tight schedule. Please do not keep him waiting.” 

Marinette nodded a brief ‘thanks’ and walked to a row of ornate brass elevators beside the lobby. She stepped into the first one to open, careful to select the highest level before she slid the key though a slot beside the buttons. For a moment nothing happened, and she grew anxious that the card would be rejected and it would end the fantasy of a morning that she had been experiencing. Before she could react, the slot beeped and she felt the elevator begin to move upwards. 

Her mind was put at ease as she listened to the soothing piano music accompanied with the ding of the elevator as it passed each floor. It was the closest thing she had to a grace period for her to collect her thoughts before she met her childhood idol. 

Growing up, she had always thought of herself as a shy, clumsy girl, but through her years her confidence had grown. Currently, she viewed herself an extremely determined and hardworking young woman. She took pride in being responsible for all of her successes and all of her failures because it meant that she was doing something with her life. She enjoyed giving others the same feeling of achievement that she experienced. Fashion had drawn her creative side in, and as she lived out the lifestyle, she realized how powerful the industry truly was. It gave people the opportunity to feel bold and to express themselves without words. 

As she stood in the empty elevator and quickly neared her destination, she prayed that her outfit would reflect her thoughts for her if she happened to stumble on her words. 

After a short pause, the doors opened and Marinette stepped out into a gorgeous, immaculately white foyer. There was a bundle of red, pink, and peach roses in a vase on a small glass table underneath a tall acrylic portrait of Gabriel Agreste himself. Above his pointed nose and sharp glasses, his serious expression gazed off into the distance, and Marinette’s heart grew frantic again as she realized that the same scrutinizing eyes would be judging her every move in a few short moments. 

She walked through the space and was led to a much larger room. The white marble flooring continued, this time covered in various sherpa rugs and a generous amount of angular, modern furniture. There was a small area set to one side where a flatscreen television was mounted above a fireplace, home to a coffee table surrounded by three grey sofas. Around the corner, Marinette caught sight of a kitchen and some other walled-off rooms that stretched beyond her field of vision. Natural light flooded in across from her, where she could see familiar buildings of the Paris skyline through a wall of windows that surrounded the penthouse. 

There was a desk at the far end of the room where Monsieur Agreste himself was seated. His body was turned away from her, facing the city below in a large leather office chair that hid him from view.

“Monsieur Agreste?” Marinette called out apprehensively. She felt small as her voice echoed through the expansive room. 

As her voice passed, he gave no response, leading her to grow wary as she approached the desk. 

Finally, when she was approximately five feet away, he swiveled the chair around to face her, causing her blue eyes widened in shock. No amount of time could have possibly prepared her for what was revealed to her in that moment. 

Her lips parted as a dashingly handsome young man dressed in a slightly unbuttoned black collared shirt, form-fitting grey slacks, and a loose ivory tie met her intent stare. The corner of his mouth curled into a smile as he stood up from his chair and brushed some stray strands of honey blonde hair away from his sparkling green eyes; eyes that she would never be able to forget, no matter how many years it had been since she had been blessed with their gaze. 

“Ah, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng. What a surprise.” 

She tried to reply to his inviting tone, but her words caught in her throat as she gawked back at Adrien Agreste.


	2. Seafoam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette reacts to meeting the infamous Adrien Agreste yet again.

It had been quite a few years since Marinette Dupain-Cheng had been face to face with Adrien Agreste.  
Five, to be exact. 

At first, she was unsure if it was the same golden-haired, green-eyed Adonis she had gone to high school with that beamed back at her (perhaps this was a clone with the same last name), but the crook of his smile confirmed her suspicions. The blonde that she had formerly seen as a sweet, innocent boy and a kind, maturing teen was now a fully-developed, grown man whose looks had greatly improved with age. His broader shoulders, tight jaw, faint stubble, and smoldering gaze were confirmations that she was in dangerous territory. 

Her face flushed as she was reminded of the crush she had had on him back when they were teenagers. She, Alya, Nino, and Adrien had grown close during their last year together at Francois-DuPont. Alya and Nino had maintained a relationship through their high school days, but Adrien and Marinette had never gotten together, despite their friends’ eager pleas. 

She fondly remembered the day after they graduated. They had spent a final night together, first eating dinner at a five-star restaurant (courtesy of Adrien’s father), followed by aimlessly driving around the streets of Paris until they quite literally crashed at the Agreste mansion after more alcohol and caffeine than their bodies could handle. Nino and Alya had naturally snuck off together, leaving Marinette alone with Adrien for the first time since she had met him three years prior. 

She recalled staring out at the Eiffel tower from his bedroom window and watching silently as its glowing form towered over the city. Adrien had approached her and the two spent what felt like hours talking about their lives together. It was the closest she had ever been to him, but of course, nothing perfect could last forever. Almost immediately after their night of a lifetime, Adrien was whisked away by his father to the United States in pursuit of a new worldwide modeling contract. After he boarded his private jet, her heart broke, every instinct of hers completely sure that she would never see him again. 

She had never been more thankful to be wrong. 

“A-Adrien.” Marinette stammered as he stared back at her intently.  
_Damn it, stuttering Marinette was supposed to be back at the curb!/_  
“I didn’t expect to be meeting you here.” 

“Who were you expecting?” He replied, his eyes glittering with amusement. “My father is away in Tokyo guest-judging on a design competition television show. He asked me oversee a majority of the business a few years ago, and although he has not formally announced it yet, I will officially be taking over Gabriel at the start of the new year.” 

“Oh, wow, congratulations!” Marinette piped. “I’m not surprised that you’d follow in your father’s footsteps.” 

“Well, you know what they say.” Adrien commented as the glow in his eyes disappeared.  
“Like father, like son.” 

She felt pained as his face grew dark and pinched her thigh as a consequence for her careless words. 

Marinette had known that Gabriel and Adrien had a strained relationship once Mme. Agreste was out of the picture, but she had never heard anything beyond the tabloids. The Agreste family dynamic was kept away from the public eye, similar to how Adrien himself had been hidden during his life before public school. And, not to her surprise, Adrien had never offered any information about his family affairs to her, Alya, or Nino during the length of their friendship. It must have been lonely, growing up with only a distant father, an assistant, and a bodyguard to form a makeshift family. On the outside, he seemed like he had everything, but in reality, he was more broken than she could have imagined. 

She instinctively knew, deep within her heart, that Adrien wished desperately to be separated from the man that had dictated most of his young, adolescent, and early adult life. Gabriel had raised Adrien so carefully that when the young boy was finally allowed a sliver of freedom, he had no idea who he really was beyond his father’s business ploys. Public schooling had been a high risk; it would leave Adrien out of the sight of Gabriel, his assistant Nathalie, and infamous bodyguard, but thankfully, his father had been persuaded. It gave Adrien his long-awaited chance to be normal. 

Of course, she had never seen him as normal. Originally, he had been on a pedestal; He was the gorgeous, kindhearted boy with an infectious smile who practically radiated joy, the one who could never possibly notice the stuttering and embarrassing girl who merely sat behind him in class. As she and her adored handsome boy formed a friendship, the pedestal was worn away until she realized that he was no longer out of reach. Instead, she discovered that he had been in her orbit the entire time; she had just been too stubborn to notice. 

However, the pedestal had never officially been worn away until that night, many years ago, when the same dismal expression that he wore now had crept across his face. 

Watching as he wiped away the sadness with a perfect, pearly-white model smile nearly broke her heart on the spot. 

“When I heard that our very own Alya Césaire had been chosen to write the article about Gabriel, I had hoped that I would have a chance to see you again.” Adrien spoke, interrupting her train of thought as his own face lit up, “But I never imagined that the young woman standing before me could possibly be the same girl I knew from Lycée.”

“I could say the same about you, Monsieur.” She replied, clutching the folder against her beating chest. 

“Please, Marinette.” He spoke, “Call me Adrien.” 

_I missed you._ Her heart whispered as she stared longingly back at him. She had waited days, months, years, desperately hoping to stumble into him again, and she was going to do her best not to waste any more of the precious time they had together. 

She wanted nothing more than to sit down with him on one of the luxurious leather couches beside the mantel and relearn everything about him, beyond the prepared interview questions from Alya. She wanted to hear from the real Adrien: his favorite season, his most-loved and most-loathed fashion trends, the way he liked his coffee, the number of relationships he had been in after Francois-DuPont, how far he was willing to go with— 

Adrien raised an eyebrow quizzically at her, as if he could read her wildly spiraling thoughts. 

A tinge of warmth surged across her cheeks and she dug her nails into the leather-bound folder.

“It’s great to see you again, Adrien.” Marinette continued, “But I was warned that you were on a tight schedule today.” 

“I’m afraid so.” He sighed. “Never a spare moment.” 

“I just have a few questions for you, as requested by Mlle. Césaire. Then maybe we can catch up.”

Adrien stood up and gestured to the seating area around the fireplace. “How about we move to somewhere more comfortable?” 

“That sounds perfect.” She replied, following him to the couches and sitting down on the one across from him. He snatched a small remote from the coffee table and ignited the fireplace with the click of a button before leaning back into the worn sofa. 

Once she opened the folder and pulled out a folded sheet of paper and a pen, she finally allowed her thoughts to consume her as she settled into the cushioned leather of the couch.  
“So, how does it feel to be the head of such a widely-successful fashion brand like Gabriel?” 

His eyes scanned the table before him as he searched for the right words.  
“Honestly? It still hasn’t sunk in yet. Up until a few years ago, I had never really experienced anything besides modeling for the company, so it’s been an interesting shift to see how the business is run with all the moving parts. I guess at the end of the day it feels rewarding and to be responsible for my father’s legacy, but I can already feel the pressure of carrying his brand on my shoulders.” 

Marinette was far more distracted by his sheer presence than she originally thought and zoned out, struggling to jot down more than a few phrases though his elaboration on how many people it took to run such a large company and how he managed to get a decent rest at the end of each day. 

His long eyelashes flared towards her as he blinked and met her gaze, queuing her next prompt. 

“Do you believe that fashion has the power to influence people?”

“I do.” Adrien responded, leaning forward towards Marinette. “Clothes represent a statement to those around you to express who you are and what you represent. They have the power to reveal your personality while they physically conceal you, which I believe is something that we take for granted in this relatively disposable world. Fashion makes a statement when words cannot.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Marinette chimed, pleased with his answer as she moved down the list. “Do you have any interests outside of the world of fashion?” 

“Of course. In my spare time, you might catch me at the cinema, jogging, reading, rock climbing, or stopping by a local animal shelter.” He chuckled. “However, the company makes sure that my time for these things comes less and less.” 

“Dogs or cats?”

“I’ve always had a soft spot for felines.” He smiled warmly. “I only own one, but it takes an immense amount of willpower to restrain myself from bringing another home each time I volunteer.” 

Adrien had never struck her as a cat person, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. She thought it was sweet, to imagine him finishing up after a busy day at work and walking to the nearest animal shelter to help nurse kittens or tire himself out after a brisk jog with the dogs. 

“Would your friends say that you are easy to get to know?” 

“Why don’t you ask yourself?” He responded. “You would know better than anyone.” 

Marinette tapped the pen against her lip, trying to look deep in thought. There had always been an easygoing nature about Adrien, but Marinette had ignored it for much of their friendship because of the incoherent stuttering mess she always turned into around him. He was one of the kindest people she had met, but he did keep a majority of his private life exactly that—private. 

She jotted some of her thoughts down onto the paper to form a more coherent answer that Alya could use in her article. 

“Do you have a philosophy that you live by?” 

Adrien cracked his knuckles before folding his hands neatly on his lap. “Everyone wears a mask. We wear them not to hide ourself from others, but to shield ourselves from who we are.” 

“Is your mask tangible or figurative?” Marinette questioned, leaning forward. 

“Why not both?” He replied after pausing for a moment as he segued to a broader focus. “We all hide behind another face. After all, it is not the truth that people cannot handle, but the consequences that stem from that truth.”

Marinette stared at him, bewildered. _Since when had Adrien been so fond of masks…?_  
She assumed it must have come from the secrecy of his life growing up. After she had been exposed to his real self, the face he had put on at school seemed more broken each day than it had before. 

She blinked back at him as she processed his words. 

Marinette had always tried to be honest. She knew that it was important to speak one’s mind, sometimes, even if that opinion or idea hurt another person. She was never fond of putting others down for what she believed, but she would never keep her true intentions hidden, would she? Had she ever hidden behind a mask? She guessed she wasn’t aware that she might really be hiding a part of herself from people. 

The designer drew a star next to his answer before she moved on.

“Are you gay, Monsieur Agreste?” 

He sat up in his seat, brushing another strand of hair away from his face. 

“No, Marinette, I’m not.” 

A warm blush flushed her cheeks as she noticed the air tense. 

“Oh my, I am so sorry Adrien, it was on the list! I didn’t mean—not that there’s anything wrong with heterosexual people, but it’s just—”

“That’s alright, Marinette.” He replied calmly, his composure unruffled by her blunt question.  
“I’m not surprised that Alya wants proof. There’s been a lot of speculation considering that the paparazzi have never caught me in a committed relationship with another woman.” 

She nodded, her eyes skimming further down the page as she clutched her pen.  
The paparazzi had never -caught- him with another woman? Was he trying to encourage her burning curiosity? 

Marinette tucked the thought of Adrien with anyone else away into her mind and tapped her pen against her thigh as she worked her way through the questions. 

“You were raised by a single father after your mother left. How did this upbringing shape who you are today?” 

She bit her lip after reading the question.  
_Damnit Alya, why would you ask him something like that?_

Adrien shifted in the couch across from her. She tried to meet his gaze, but he looked past her towards the Paris skyline. 

“I wasn’t raised by my father.” 

Marinette opened her mouth to object, but the door behind them clicked open before she could continue. 

“Monsieur Agreste, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in approximately two minutes.” The bright blonde from the lobby retorted as she poked her head around the corner. “It will be much more worthy of your time.” 

Marinette could tell the woman was trying hard not to snarl at her in front of Adrien.

“Reschedule it, please, Chloe.” He replied sternly as he met Marinette’s eyes with his enthralling gaze. “Mlle. Dupain-Cheng and I have barely scratched the surface.” 

Marinette’s lips parted as the woman scoffed and walked away, closing the door and leaving her alone with Adrien again. 

As the door clicked shut, she couldn’t help but recall the tone of voice, many years before.  
There was only one woman Marinette knew with an attitude that sharp and clear. 

“Your receptionist…is that Chloe Bourgeois?” She stammered. 

“Yes, that’s Chloe.” He smirked. “Her father cut her off a while ago and I knew she had been struggling to find a job, so I thought I would give her a chance working for my company. She’s performed quite well in her few years here. I might promote her soon.” 

Marinette couldn’t imagine Chloe being able to work for anything in her life, especially from pleasantly greeting people and being helpful, nonetheless. She chuckled at the thought. This new personality was definitely a change from the spoiled brat she had previously abhorred. Perhaps her classmates had changed more since she had last seen them.

Her eyes wandered back to Adrien’s hands. He seemed to be the same, familiar boy she had once known, only this time a man with an empire at his fingertips. She traced the curves of his knuckles, thankful to find only one ring on his right hand; a delicate silver band with a flat face. 

Her heart pounded in her chest. 

He was still _available._

A joyous sigh of relief escaped from her lips as she met his gaze. 

“Now, where were we?” He replied, turning his attention back to her. 

“I don’t want to keep you from anything, Adrien.” Marinette cautioned. “I’m sure you have more important things to attend to.” 

“My other engagements can wait. It isn’t often that I run into old friends.” He smiled warmly. “What have you been up to after all these years?” 

Marinette crossed one of her legs at the knee, settling her hands gently down across her lap as she pushed the notebook aside. 

“Well, I graduated from IFA Paris.” She winced, remembering the extremely rigorous design courses. They had kept her under pressure for most of her school career, but ultimately, had elevated her skills to levels she hadn’t thought possible.  
“After university, I helped my parents out with the bakery in order to save up some money so that I could open up my own boutique. It was difficult, but I was able to officially start business a few months ago! It’s only a small shop right now, but I couldn’t be prouder.” She gushed. 

“Sounds like you’ve been busy.” Adrien responded. 

“Yeah. My social life has been suffering because of my business. Alya swears that all I do is run the shop.”  
Marinette blushed once the words came out of her mouth. She hadn’t been on a date in years, and here she was blurting out how embarrassingly uneventful her life was to her childhood crush. 

_So much for being subtle._

“There’s nothing wrong with dedication.” Adrien stated reassuringly. “I’m glad you’re working for what you want.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I assume you’re still good friends with Alya?” He inquired. 

Marinette nodded eagerly. “Definitely! She and I have only grown closer with age. Well, as close as our friendship can get with Nino involved.” She laughed. “Those two are head-over-heels for each other. If they ever break up, I swear I’ll never believe in love again.” 

She stopped herself from continuing as she noticed Adrien’s eyes begin to darken again. She knew that he had been thrust into a world of modeling contracts and other fashion responsibilities the second that he graduated Lycée, but she had hoped that he would have been able to keep more in touch with everyone with all of the technological advances and social media. His pained expression hinted clearly to Marinette that that had not been the case.

“I haven’t talked to Nino in years.”  
He brushed some hair away from his face with a swift hand as his expression faded.  
“We both tried texting each other, but I was so busy that I hardly had any downtime to carry out a decent conversation beyond a few words. After a while, all of our contact was completely lost. I assumed that he moved on. I deserted him.” Adrien murmured with a pained expression on his face. “He deserved a better friend than me, anyway. Someone like you or Alya that he could count on to always be there for him instead of someone who was stuck halfway across the world without any way to help.” 

“Hey, now, don’t be so harsh on yourself.” She sympathized. “It’s hard to keep in touch once you stop seeing someone as frequently as you’re used to, especially after so many school years of near-daily interaction.”

Marinette leaned forward and placed her hand on his knee as she looked up. 

“I think that right now would be a perfect time to try again.”

His leg shifted under her touch, but he didn’t pull away. 

“What if he’s still upset?” Adrien added solemnly. 

“Do you really think Nino would ever stay mad at you?” Marinette spoke. “As far as I recall, he was just as upset to watch you go as you were to leave him behind.” 

_We all were._ She thought silently, watching as his expression softened. 

“Really?” He murmured. 

“One-hundred and fifty percent, yes.” 

He placed his hand over hers and gently squeezed her fingers. 

“If you insist.” He replied before leaning back nonchalantly.  
“Now, before I forget to ask, what is the name of your boutique?” 

She beamed back at him.  
“La Coccinelle Chanceuse.” 

“I love it.” He chuckled. “Very… _Marinette.”_

“Is there something wrong with… _Marinette?_ ” She teased. 

“Hardly.” Adrien smirked. “She’s the most fascinating woman I know.”

There was a brief silence as they both sat and stared at each other. Outside, the sky had turned a deep shade of gray, and a fierce rain pattered against the windows as the wind howled tumultuously. 

“How did you arrive?” He questioned, clearly concerned with her attire facing the unfolding storm outside. 

She pressed her toes against the floor.  
“I walked.”  
Marinette tucked her palms into the sleeves of her blazer and curled her fingers carefully around the cuff as he gaped back at her, mentally scolding herself. Of course, her inner fashionista had led her to ignore more practical garments like a raincoat or her favorite leather boots.  
In the presence of an Agreste, no less.

“Would you like to stay for a bit?” Adrien offered, gesturing to the brooding clouds on the horizon. “The rain won’t be letting up for at least an hour, and the conditions outside are unfit for walking. As the Americans say, when it rains, it pours.” 

“That’s alright.” Marinette murmured.

She scolded herself nearly as soon as the words had come out of her mouth. Oh, how desperately she longed to stay. But she was afraid. The extra time together might lead to a rekindled personal attachment that she swore she had moved on from. Something more than she felt she was prepared to face all in one day. 

As the rain pounded outside, she began to notice how comforting his office was. There was a warmth to it, as opposed to the stark coldness downstairs in the lobby. The shapes of the walls and the curves of the furniture felt familiar. 

It felt like Adrien. 

“It isn’t a far walk from here to my place. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She reassured the blonde, who was glancing at her skeptically.

“At least let me offer you a ride.” He insisted, standing up and walking over to her. As he approached, she noticed that he was still nearly a head taller than her.

“The gentleman in me refuses to let you wander home in the rain.”  
She grumbled playfully back at him as she stood, waiting for his direction. “Fine.” 

He escorted her back down the stark white hallway she had entered and into the open elevator, carefully pressing the floor for the lobby as the doors closed and they began their descent.  
After digging around in his pocket, Adrien revealed a phone, which he promptly pressed to his cheek. 

“Yes, Felix? Please pull my car around to the front. I have a guest.” 

Marinette glanced down nervously at the floor of the elevator (heck, even that was spotless) as she curled her toes. 

Adrien’s guest. She mused as the elevator descended. Who would have thought? 

“Ladies first.” Adrien interrupted, gesturing for her to exit before he proceeded through the lobby. It was just as lifeless as it had been before, this time without a single person in sight. Marinette glanced towards the front desk, but even Chloe had disappeared, leaving her to follow Adrien silently as he paved his way across the large space. 

“For you.”  
Adrien grabbed an umbrella on a coatrack by the front door and offered it to Marinette. She paused and met his gaze before she graciously accepted it in an outstretched hand. Their fingers brushed for a moment as the door swung open, and Marinette flushed at the warmth of his skin against hers. 

“Thanks.”  
She hadn’t realized how cold she was until the two were thrust into the bitter air outside. With a firm hand pressed between her shoulder blades, Adrien steadily guided Marinette to a sleek silver sedan that was parked at the side of the street. 

Marinette shut the umbrella as she slid into the passenger seat and turned to see Adrien settle down behind the wheel and he put his key in the ignition. The engine rumbled back at him as the vehicle came to life. 

“So, where am I going?” Adrien asked, his attention on Marinette as he tapped his fingers against the drive shift. Around the car, a steady rain drummed against the windshield.  
“You mentioned the bakery back in my office.” 

“Yes, the bakery would be great.” She replied. “I promised my parents that I would stop by to help close for the day.” 

Adrien nodded before he turned on his blinker and seamlessly joined the growing stream of traffic as more drivers cowered in their cars, afraid to brave the storm. 

_/I can’t believe I’m in Adrien’s car…that Adrien is driving me home…/_

Marinette bit her lip as she sorted through her thoughts. She was still recovering from her earlier shock from meeting his gaze instead of the eyes of the cold, heartless man that she had briefly known as Gabriel Agreste. The electricity of their contact made her skin spark.  
/What am I, twelve years old? Get a grip, woman./

Adrien was the first to speak as they weaved through the traffic.  
“If you’re not too busy with your boutique, I’d love to have you work as an intern for Gabriel.”

Marinette blinked back at him, unsure if she had heard correctly. 

“You want me to intern for _you?_ ” She stammered. 

“Of course.” He replied. “As I recall from our teenage years, you were quite talented. I imagine by now you have only perfected your craft.”

She blushed and sank further back into the leather seat, suddenly feeling suffocated by the intoxicating heat of the car. 

“I—” 

She was at a loss for words. Adrien Agreste, the head of Gabriel, was offering her a job. As his intern. 

Francois-DuPont Marinette would have died and ascended to Heaven as soon as the words hit her ears, but she had different responsibilities now than she did five years ago.

“I’m so sorry Adrien, but I would prefer to work on building my brand before I take on another job.” 

Torrents of rain aggressively struck the window as she processed the words that had tumbled from her gaping mouth. She was barely scraping by as she produced her own collection, and she desperately hoped that her decision wouldn’t come back to haunt her. Despite the extra money, the pressure to preform for Adrien was sure to overwhelm her past her current capabilities. 

“Understandable.”  
He nodded, keeping his eyes on the road.

She was so taken aback by his offer that she didn’t even notice when he pulled up to the familiar corner where the bakery resided. 

“Here we are, Mademoiselle.”  
Adrien turned to face her and chuckled to himself. 

Marinette sat still, her eyes still trained on the raindrops trickling down the windshield and her mind still enthralled by the crisp, warm scent of the car; the perfect sunshine for her rainy day. 

He reached out and gently nudged her with his elbow, hoping that it would help her come to terms with her surroundings. 

“Oh, sorry!” She frantically gestured to the glass. “I was distracted by the…weather.” 

“No problem with that.” He winked. “Sometimes we all need an escape.”

Marinette nodded as she forced herself to pry open the door.  
She hated to leave Adrien so soon. 

“Thanks for driving me home.” 

“Of course, Marinette. It was my pleasure. I only wish I had run into you sooner.” He replied as he handed her the umbrella. “Here, keep this. I think you’ll need it more than I will.” 

“Thanks.” She smiled, taking it graciously as she parted with a mock formality. “Adieu, Monsieur Agreste.” 

“Until we meet again, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng.” He smirked. “Send Alya and Nino my best regards. Perhaps we can go to lunch sometime.” 

He leaned over in his seat, making eye contact one last time as if he was enticed by her sparkling blue eyes. 

“Better late than never.” Marinette smiled before she closed the car door and sprinted to the bakery, the umbrella and her notebook tucked safely under her arm. As she reached the porch, she turned to watch Adrien drive away, but he was already gone. 

Ironically enough, so was the rain, and she stood in a state of disbelief as rays of sunlight and patches of blue sky peeked though the grey clouds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please let me know what you think! More chapters to come if the interest is there.


	3. Jade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette reports back to Alya about her encounter, much to her friend's amusement.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” The aspiring fashion designer scoffed as she entered her apartment. Alya eagerly waited for her on the couch as she lifted her arms out of two fleece blankets and rested them against the plush arm. A box of Kleenex was set beside her, and a pile of them was beginning to form on the ground as she continued to sniffle and sneeze. 

“You’re welcome!” Alya hollered as Marinette settled into an armchair across from her and began to fiddle with the remote. “If I had told you which Agreste you were meeting by yourself, you wouldn’t even have gone! I couldn’t waste an interview opportunity like thi—ah—choo!”  
She sneezed, cutting off her statement.

“You could have at least _warned_ me in advance!” Marinette whined. “I walked in there expecting to meet an experienced industry leader with a professional opinion, not someone who would be obviously biased in my favor!” 

“Who says Adrien isn’t experienced? He’s been living in fashion for his entire life.” Alya refuted. “Plus, bias is basically journalism as a whole, anyway. Think about the positives! Monsieur Agreste has been reminded that you exist and that you’re both in the same industry, plus he happened to not be a complete asshole, ignored your stubbornness, and by the looks of it, even drove you home! You don’t have a drop of rain on you.” 

Marinette rolled her eyes.  
“So he’s a gentleman. What’s new?” 

“Not to mention, he gave you another umbrella.” Alya continued, disregarding the comment. “He knows your weakness.” 

The reporter snickered as the memories came flooding back to Marinette. She could clearly recall the day back at Lycée that her friend was referencing. The designer had been caught off guard in a downpour as she left after history. Adrien had come up behind her, calm and prepared. She was too shy to approach, but she was glad he had.  
Marinette felt relieved as she gazed at the slick black umbrella in Adrien’s outstretched hand.  
Their hands brushed, but before she could speak, he was ushered into a silver car and sped away. 

“You’ll never let me forget that, will you?” Marinette chided. 

Alya shrugged. “I just think it’s ironic that every time you seem to meet him for the first time, it’s raining cats and dogs. Heck, at this rate, it’s practically raining men.” 

_I wish._ The designer thought wistfully.  
“If it rained men, I’d have settled down years of rainy days ago.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know you’re experiencing a drought, girl.” Alya teased. “Adrien could probably help with that if you quit bashing yourself and let him in again. He could be really good for you.” 

If she was being completely honest with herself, which of course, Marinette always was (or at least tried to be), she would have admitted that she did find the situation with Adrien a bit strange. Was it a coincidence that it was raining? That they were the same conditions as when she had met him for the first time at Francois-Dupont? That the two of them had been alone and that he had managed to flip the interrogation of himself onto her? 

Probably. She tended to overthink things. 

But she also believed (with her strong will and blind faith) that everything happened for a reason.  
And there was no clearer reason than the fact that she was meant to meet Adrien again.

The sound of Alya blowing her nose returned Marinette’s attention to her sick friend.

“I’m serious.” The brunette sniffled. “I know you adored Adrien in Lycée. Whenever you were around him, you practically _glowed._ Not that I blame you. From your perspective, I can see why he was so appealing. Connections to the fashion business, unbelievably gorgeous looks,” 

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay, we get it—”

“And the kindest soul I have ever seen, besides yours, of course.” Alya continued. “But he never felt that way himself. And I don’t know if you ever realized because damnit, you both are about as stubborn as mules, but the more you opened up to him through your friendship, the more he started to open up, too.” 

Marinette felt a warm blush spread across her cheeks and averted her attention to the dim TV.

She had always considered herself lucky. Through her entire life, things had usually been in her favor, whether she guessed the correct answer on a test, made it to the train just as it pulled up to the platform, found spare change on the ground, or barely made the traffic light before it turned red. But she would never have imagined herself to be lucky enough to be reunited with Adrien Agreste after a five-year separation with no contact and no leads on his location whatsoever. 

That was a miracle within itself. 

“He offered me a job,” Marinette blurted out, “But I turned it down.” 

“What?! _Mari!_ ” Alya whined as she shifted on the couch. “You just rekindled your contact with this man, and you’ve already turned him down?” 

“I had to.” She sighed. “I want to focus on my own career before I get swept up in another task.” 

“I mean, I guess that’s a valid reason to pass up on growing closer to the man of your dreams…” Alya coughed. 

“Don’t worry, it isn’t the last I’ll see of him. He invited us to lunch.” Marinette continued. “You, Nino, and I. He wants to see all of us again. I think he’s been lonely.” 

“Naturally.” Alya commented as she readjusted her position on the couch and pulled her blanket higher on her shoulders. “Nino was torn when he and Adrien grew apart.” 

“I heard…” Marinette trailed off. Her heart was heavy in sympathy for him. Adrien had been through so much that he didn’t deserve because of his father and his image. It wasn’t fair. 

“What day did he suggest?” The journalist piped. 

“He didn’t.” She responded. “But I’m sure he meant soon. I’ll wait for him to call.” 

“You can’t wait for him forever, Marinette.” Alya noted. “You’ve been waiting for seven years.” 

“And I can afford to wait a few days longer.” She teased. “I’ll contact him once you’re feeling better.” 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” Marinette nodded.  
_I promise that I won’t let Adrien Agreste escape from me again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit shorter; but don't worry, there is still plenty of excitement to come c:
> 
> Thank you for all of your kudos and feedback! I really appreciate it.  
> My tumblr is @chatnoirris, come bother me there if you have any extra comments/want to say hi!

**Author's Note:**

> How'd I do? Haha. This is the first -real- fic I've ever posted, so please give me your feedback! I have more chapters written, too, but I thought I would wait to see if people were interested in more? Just let me know! ^-^


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